"Oh no, oh no no no…" Micky paced up and down the bandstand, adjourned in khakis, old neon-green shoes, and his paisley "tablecloth". Davy and Peter were dressed similarly, for they had a gig in a couple of hours. The two boys were composing a set list for the performance, but Micky was oblivious as he frantically locked the doors and drew down window shades.

"Men, we are going on lockdown. No one is to move or leave or she might find us." He continued his disarray of pacing and rechecking locked doors. He swiped the bangs off his face and back into a mess of his hair. Micky had not bothered to mess with it today, so the chesnutty-brunette strands hung in their natural state of straight down, but wavy.

"Micky, what's the matter with you? We have to go out tonight; we're playing at the club down by 42nd street." Davy finally was able to look up from filing his nails and pipe in with his considered-charming British accent. Peter laid down the pencil and paper he had been using to form their list of songs. The blonde had been in the process of trying to convince Davy to let him sing a song as well, but was having little success due to his short supply of songs to sing.

"No. We are not leaving. I swear she can smell me from miles away." Micky sat down, but twiddled his thumbs in distress. His two friends eyed each other with confusing glances. What could it be this time? Pirates? Magicians? Spies?

"But Mick," Peter tried to protest, "Mike's out getting our laundry. Come on, unlock the door for him."

"He can get in if he knows the secret knock," Davy and Peter looked at him in confusion before deciding to protest no longer and went back to their setlist. Peter continued to try and get a vocal part of tonight's performance.

"How about 'Your Auntie Grizelda'?"

"Well," Micky began, unaware they were talking of music, "She's the rudest, most judgmental person ever, and she seems to care to take it out on me!" Peter and Davy turned to stare at Micky's outburst about the song he had written.

Suddenly, Davy caught his reflection in the mirror. "Is that my hair, it looks hideous!" Davy quickly dashed into the bathroom too fix the calamity, as Mike entered the room from the winding staircase. Micky did a double take, then looked at Mike, flabbergasted.

"How did you get in?" Micky demanded.

"You always forget to lock the upstairs window when you find out your aunt is coming."

"Mii-iike, do something," Micky moaned, as he fell forward, grasping his friend's shoulders, "Impersonate me, or something." A few moments later, a knock protruded from the door. Micky's hands started trembling as he slowly stepped from his position by the stairs over to the door. But after checking the peephole, his face lit up. "I can't believe it," he muttered.

"Gosh! I haven't seen you in forever, Micky," He opened the door and a young girl with dark brown hair stepped in, grinning. Micky was ecstatic as he hugged her.

"Wait, a girl is here to see Micky, not Davy? Was there a typo?" Peter asked, as he studied the script with confusion, "Wait, this isn't in here at all."

"Guys, this is my sister, Coco Sunshine Dolenz!" Micky once again hugged her, and ruffled the girl's hair. Now the family resemblance was obvious as Mike and Peter looked between the two siblings, and Micky did seem the older-brother type.

"Micky, my name is Gemma and you know it."

"What did you say, Coco," Micky joked as a broad grin spread across his face. The two were obviously very close. "Oh, that's Mike and that's Peter." He pointed out his two friends, but then a voice came from behind.

"George, what is wrong with your hair, it's so long!" Micky pivoted to see a familiar older woman, of whom he bore a striking resemblance, aside from the fact that her hair was gray and pulled into a tight bun and she had small spectacles on.

Micky faked a laugh, "Hey Auntie Grizelda," His aunt continued walking into the pad, looking around in disapproval, as Peter contemplated why Micky had responded to the name George, until she made it to where Mike and Peter were standing. "You remember Mike, right? And this is Peter. Davy's in the bathroom."

The woman scoffed, "George, why are you and your friends acting like dirty hippies. Next thing I know, you'll be telling that you've dropped out of college to play rock n' roll!

"I did tell you that, at Dad's, you know…" A sad look crossed his face.

"Hey, who was at the door?" a British voice came from the back of the room, as Davy exited the restroom, finally satisfied with his hair. "You guys didn't tell me we were having compa-" Davy was cut off by his pretty-girl face, which confused Micky, as there were no girls here for Davy to become infatuated with. Only his aunt and-

Micky followed Davy's gaze- right to Coco.

"Oh no! Oh nonono! Davy!"